


There is a light that never goes out

by Axlee283



Category: Harry Styles - Fandom, Louis Tomlinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Angst, Avoidance, Canon Compliant, Heartbreak, Multi, Reunion, larry - Freeform, post breakup, the final show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-20 07:23:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15529146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Axlee283/pseuds/Axlee283
Summary: Deliberately, Louis Tomlinson avoids any and all there is to know about one Harry Styles.





	1. Chapter 1

Deliberately, Louis Tomlinson avoids any and all there is to know about one Harry Styles. 

So it should be mystifying that Louis finds himself alone in the back of a car, stationary for forty five minutes, outside the final concert of the very same man he’d spent the last three years avoiding. For reasons beyond him, Louis has couriered the invitation in the safety of his back pocket all the way across the atlantic, the soft slip of paper between his fingers as his eyes trace over the words. And he probably does spend too long staring at his name inked in Harry's sprawling, familiar penmanship - the curve of the L once a work of art in his naive eyes. With trembling fingers, he resists the temptation to screw it up, toss it out of the window and order the car to turn around and take him home. 

So on unsteady legs, Louis finally extends himself out of the car and proceeds toward the side entrance.

Liam is already waiting for him, which means that once those familiar sandalwood eyes crease into a smile, Louis cannot turn back. Louis cannot turn on his heel the way he has so many times already. Louis is already late, deliberately so, the threads of his shirt fraying between the pads of his fingertips as he projects the scowl of serenity he’d had so many years in the spotlight to perfect. His eyes fall to the two glass bottles in Liams grip and he feels the edge disappear before the first drop has even laced his tongue. Despite the cavern of time that had passed between them, Liam still knew Louis like he was reading the insides of his eyelids, even when Louis wished he wouldn’t. 

‘Cutting it fine Tommo,’

‘Arrived at exactly the time I intended to Li.’

But was that true? Louis had poured over schedules, over flight times and traffic predictions in LA. Had flown in four days early despite telling the boys he would arrive on the day. Had got into the back of his car three hours ago for a twenty-five minute car ride and yet was still late. Almost too late. But he’d made it with heavy clunking feet and a thudding heart loud enough to drown out the sounds of a shrieking Harry Styles as he paraded around on a stage with no thought or care for the people in the audience in front of him. Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn back. But Louis’ thought is broken as Liam presses the cool glass into his skin as they fall into a pacey step and Louis is grateful for the acrid taste that burns a hole in his throat as he swallows away his last semblance of pride. 

 

‘Thought you’d maybe gotten a better offer.’

Louis sighs, the words sting in a way they wouldn’t have done before as their strides increase, fuelled by the energy of a thousand words left unspoken. This is how it is, Louis thinks, as he stares at the back of Liam’s closely cropped hair as he leads the way. In some ways, Louis doesn’t know himself anymore, let alone the four boys who’d lived in the palm of his hand for five years. The same five boys who hadn’t managed to squeeze their egos into the same room in almost as long. But they are no longer kids, Louis recognises, as his lips press together in a straight line; their lives having diverged no matter how hard they had tried to prevent adulthood splintering them apart at the seams. 

‘Li, I’m here yeah.’

And wasn’t that all that mattered? That Louis had managed to drag himself from his pit of despair to face head on in to the one subject matter he had artfully mastered avoiding? That he had reached out to both Niall and Liam to see if the invitation had been extended in more ways than just one - and not just because a little piece of him had clung to the idea that it had possibly been a personal invite just for one, much in the way Harry had taken the time to scrawl the act of self indulgence onto a piece of silk card. Louis is content when Liam pushes no further, allowing him to suck at the liquid in the bottle with the desperation of a dehydrated lamb. 

‘Bloody asked Jeff to sort us a buggy.’

Although Louis doesn’t see it, Louis can feel the eyeroll that Liam has given and he wants to laugh, but the idea doesn’t quite find his senses. Louis isn’t surprised that Jeff hasn’t followed through with his promise. Not because Jeff was unreliable and had a reputation for under-delivering; actually, it was quite the opposite. Louis had watched him morph Harry from clean cut boy band pop kid to still as clean cut fully fledged rockstar. Actually, Louis had always considered it quite remarkable. But things changed and despite their warming friendship, Jeffs loyalties sat with Harry and so custody of that friendship was granted only to one side. Louis has only spoken to him fleetingly since, but he still knows Jeff and he can almost picture his thought process at Liams request. The last thing Jeff needed at the final show, was an agitated Harry Styles. That was why there was no buggy and that is why they would not arrive to the stage until after Harry’s show had begun. 

Seemingly so consumed by his own thoughts, Louis walks straight into Liam who has halted in front of him. Apparently, Liam had asked him a question. As beer splashes against his vans, Louis lifts his chin to begin his typical barrage of insults. But before his lips had the opportunity to hollow around the words, Liam halts him in place with a firm grip around his bicep. He wears the look that has always made Louis squirm, as though he had the power to sweep the floor right out from beneath his unsteady feet until Louis was nothing but a shivering, shell of a soul. To this day, Louis had never met anyone with the ability to break him down as quickly as Liam could. 

‘He’s as nervous as you are, yeah?’

Louis knows what he’s referring to immediately and stills before going lax under his grip. Having that knowledge doesn’t help. And if anything, it pushes into Louis’ mind all the thoughts he had done his best to ignore. Like the fact that Liam and Niall will already have seen him, that Harry would have got to them first and there was no knowing what he would have said, what lies he may have sprayed about Louis. But Louis still has the whole night ahead of him as he feels his head begin to detach from his body, tipping his skull back to neck the rest of his beer as he discards the empty on a window ledge to the right of them. He will need more of those. Tearing himself out of Liam's grip, he petulantly shrugs, brows dipped. 

‘Who said I was nervous you prick?’

As if on cue (and Louis made a mental note to kiss the little adorable Irish one on the forehead when he got a chance), Niall skidded around the corner in the buggy, his brown hair a feature that still startled Lou anytime he saw it. And for a moment the cloud fogging his mind lifts, the way Niall had always unexplainably managed to achieve - his eyes a glittering shade of excitement that actually allowed Louis to laugh so that his cheeks puff and air hits his teeth. Whilst Liam provides him with earth-shattering clarity of the situation at hand, Niall reminds him that there is hope and where there is hope, there is happiness. 

‘Nialler, oi oi’


	2. Chapter 2

In thanks to reckless driving, acquired through many years of backstage practice, they arrive just in time. 

Louis isn’t sure he agrees that ‘just in time’ is the descriptor he would use having relaxed in the knowledge that they were most likely to reach the stage once Harry was already on it. But just in time means Louis is standing awkwardly between Niall and Liam, his body purposefully at an angle to the door Louis knows he will walk out of. They have all played this venue plenty enough to know the routes and passages. Louis has played this game with Harry more than enough times to spoil the ending.

Niall is talking at him, all flushing cheeks and toothy grin, so Louis nods despite being unable to concentrate on anything but the thudding of his heart in his chest and the clammy dampness that pools in his palms. Even though he tries to focus is on the blues of Niall's eyes, that look even more blue against a frame of darker hair. Louis deduces that he likes it, thinks it makes Niall look more his age, rather than the plucky kid with the bleached hair from before. As much as Louis would have liked to, there was no going back to before; for any of them. 

‘We need to go straight down to the pit if we’re gonna be there for the start,’

Niall advises as Louis laces his finger around a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. Apparently a decision had been made that the invited guests would get the full experience in front of the stage, within touching distance of the flocks of people who have come to see only one person. Typically Louis would be pleased, forever an advocate of the true concert experience and for a night to feel like just one of the masses, rather than Louis Tomlinson riddled with regret and resentment. But despite the fact it will be Harry towering above him on show, it is Louis who feels so utterly exposed at the prospect of looking up at Harry amongst a sea of nameless faces. Louis feels as though he may as well have painted his whole body neon yellow; there was never an option to hide under the glossy green gaze he’d forever wilt under. 

‘But we’re gonna time it with when the lights go down so people don’t notice us as much-‘

Because much like Louis is, the fans will be waiting for Harry and won’t be expecting the arrival of three of his once upon a time bandmates. The dimming of the lights to signal the arrival to stage has always been Louis’ favourite moment. The energy palpable, his stomach flipping as he felt every heart in that audience as they roared and screamed until the floor was vibrating. Niall was right. It was the perfect moment to sneak in unnoticed. Distraction was key. And much like Louis who was struggling to focus on anything other than the imminent arrival of Harry Styles to the back of the stage, the fans would take at least a couple of songs to cotton on to their presence. 

Louis tilts his chin downwards as the door opens and a cloud of people emerge. He resists the temptation to turn his head fully, to stand and stare at the proclamation as though they were marching in a parade. But from the corner of his eye, he takes in enough. It is Claire first, with her kind features in her flared striped trousers and fitted white shirt, to Sarah who is laughing with her back to him so that all Louis can see is the bounce of her hair as she shakes in joy. Adam is crouched down adjusting his shoes whilst Mitch is trailing his long fingers over a stack of guitars as he talks somebody through the intricacies. And finally Harry. Long, willowy Harry with eyes dark like overgrown forestry, his much shorter hair highlighting the sharp definition of his jaw as he speaks with Jeff. 

And Jeff looks pissed off, which tugs a smile to Louis’ lips as he resists the urge to stroll over to chip in with some ill timed comment in an attempt to lighten the mood between them. That wasn’t his role anymore. It’s a moment Louis wishes he could freeze and it takes him back to being a child on Christmas morning, holding a snow globe in his hands as he marvels at the carefully crafted figurines inside the glass. To observe and watch the man he’d used to love was satisfying all the cravings and longingness Louis has long since believed he’d eradicated. And Louis knows that as soon as Harry glances over his shoulder and catches sight of the three boys who started this all with him, that the glass will smash and they will all be blinded by snow all over again. 

It isn’t until Niall grabs a hold of his wrist and smiles knowingly that Louis snaps out of it, accepting another bottle of beer from the stagehand looking at him curiously. With a single shake of Louis’ head, whatever words were forming on Niall's tongue recoil whilst Liam looks at him passively. They have bore witness to this game for so many years that Louis is surprised that they still pay any interest. 

‘We need to move Lou,’

Niall says and Louis appreciates the tone, the pillowy softness that coddles and comforts him as he blinks his eyes closed to collect himself. To pull himself away from staring at the back of a man he could have carved from stone. He focuses all of his attention on the two faces before him, warm and comforting and knowing of all the thoughts reverberating around the plates of Louis’ skull as he struggles to swallow all the feelings down to the place in his chest he’d locked away. 

With a slow nod, Louis allows Niall to lead him by the wrist toward their destination. Typically, Louis stumbles. Because although Harry was clumsiest, Lou was clumsy too. Stubbing his toe, Louis bites down into his already teeth bitten lips and spills his beer for the second time of the evening, all before the concert has even kicked off. Just his luck. 

‘Ah fucking, fuck,’

The words slip from his lips thoughtlessly, his thick Doncaster expletives so out of place amidst the quiet and contained, mostly Americanised, fervour. So Louis laughs obnoxiously, because he hasn’t eaten and the drink is inking into the strands of his brain quickly and because he feels so damn awkward and alone amidst all of these people in a life he used to be the main feature of. So Louis doesn’t even need to look to know that Harry’s head has snapped around to find the source of the sound he’d listened to for so many years. Because Louis, of all people, knows that removing someone special from your life doesn’t mean you forgot the sound of their laugh, the feel of the touch of their lips on your skin or the way their tears sound as they hit the floor. 

Louis only catches his gaze for a fleeting moment, that intensity that had burned a thousand holes into him over the years. The moment is enough for Louis. To see beautiful Harry, in his beautiful blue suit with silk black shirt that makes Louis want to reach his fingers toward to trace the lines of the inked skin beneath. Lou was at the top of the stairs he needed to ascend, green and blue meeting like two beams of light. What Louis doesn’t expect to see last as Harry’s face disappears from view, Louis wrist tugged at by the little irish one as the lights begin to dim, is a dimpled impish grin light up Harry’s face in a way Louis hadn’t seen in a very long time. 

In a way Louis never expected to be privy to again. 

So Louis smiles too.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis never thought he’d be stood watching the screen lift to reveal Harry Styles on stage. 

Perhaps naively, Louis had always expected One Direction to stay together forever. That they wouldn’t succumb to the route of so many that had gone before them. Temptations of solo success or forays into other industries wouldn’t be enough for five boys who’d shared something so special, whose bonds ran deeper than words. But like foundations, removing Zayn had sent the rest of them tumbling. Had twisted the roots of their friendship beyond recognition until Louis closed the door of his hotel room one night, sat on his bed, placed his head in hands and listened to the silence that indicated it was all over. One Direction was done. 

But Harry is not finished and nor are any of the boys, which Louis is proud of. Even if this is the closest he has been to Harry in three years. Even if Louis has never felt more distant from the boy who flashes the widest of smiles as the noise around the concert hall is deafening to the point where he can hardly here the introductory angelic hums of ‘Only Angel’.

Louis can’t help but spend the entirety of the first song with the neck of his beer bottle at his lips as his eyes follow every step and move that Harry makes. Louis is too far back to see the intricacies of his features, to spot the glint in his eye and the deepening of the crevice in his cheek that only come with the adrenaline of performing. He isn’t close enough to really know if a look or a smile in their general vicinity is deliberately aimed their way, especially when he hopes that they are. And it is what Harry is made for Louis thinks, as the man sings into the microphone and holds his arms wide for this legion of adoring fans. Harry is never more at home than when strutting around in front of thousands upon a stage. 

Louis wonders if he will be able to stand on wavering legs for the rest of the show as Harry strums his guitar and the chords of ‘Woman’ begin. This is a performance of a collection of songs that feel as much Louis’ as they are Harry's. It was an album Louis had refused to listen to for weeks, until he’d been drunk and high and stumbled in to his empty apartment with an empty heart to feel his heart break all over again as the first chord played. Time had numbed himself to the emotion laced in every track. But standing before Harry, hearing him sing the words in person after so long, Louis allows himself to feel the memories interwoven in the words that Harry kisses into the microphone. 

It was Louis who had called Harry selfish. 

Louis who had slammed his fist against the table so that Liam clamped his mouth shut and Niall stopped smiling and silence descended. It was Louis who had jabbed his finger at Harry who sat opposite him and called him it. It was Harry who had told him he knew he was, told him he was sorry, told Louis that it was what he needed to do. But Louis had been hurt, had been devastated. And consumed in darkness had wanted Harry to feel it too. Louis had climbed under Harry's skin and planted all the words that he knew would grow like weeds to blacken the heart of the boy he was said to love. 

And that had been the beginning of the end Louis now knows, as he sways to the beat, eyes closed as he swallows thickly. Louis had slipped into his hotel room that night, found Harry with his hair in knots from the way his fingers had feverishly toyed with it, eyes red rimmed. But sorry hadn’t been enough. Harry was selfish and Louis had finally realised it. There was no going back. All the secrets they had shared under thickets of stars had begun to unravel at the seams; all the promises of a future that could have been had worn down like the sea against cliff face. 

That day over the table, in between the break down of One Direction, Louis and Harry had broken too. 

Harry flies to New York not long after. Louis didn’t want to think about the reason why. So when Louis lets himself into Harry's apartment only a fortnight later, with the key he still possessed from less complicated times, he shouldn’t have been surprised to receive the news he did. 

‘I’ve been offered a record deal Lou,’

Louis drops his fork, chin falling open as he pushes the bowl of linguine away from him. He should have known it was coming, he thinks in hindsight, but he is blindsided. Louis, perhaps deep down, had always known it likely that this would happen, that Harry would be snapped up by a record company. When Louis doesn’t reply, Harry pleads for Louis to tell him something, anything at all but the silence. Because Harry never liked to be alone with his thoughts in times like these, always used Louis to provide the noise. And Louis remembers again that word he called Harry in the boardroom, because everything Louis has ever done has been for Harry. When would Harry ever think about Louis in the decisions he made? 

There was pasta all over the wall, Louis remembers, as the fans have begun to recognise them and he can hear his name being shouted from all angles when all Louis wants to do is stare up at the magician on the stage to enjoy ‘Ever Since New York’. His mind drifting back to the sea of words he would never be able to take back, to the smashed china that nipped at the skin on Harry’s cheek, to Harry who hadn’t got angry. Harry who had sat back in his chair and accepted every word and insult Louis threw. Harry who wiped the blood from his skin and stared back at Louis with saucer wide, empty eyes. Harry who just nodded as though he already knew that Louis would react the way he did. Harry who always cried, but didn’t. Harry who could only apologise for ruining Louis’ trip before it had even really begun. Harry who couldn’t apologise for any other reason.

Liam hands him another beer as Niall slides an arm around his shoulder. He knows, Louis gathers, as Harry begins to strum at his acoustic guitar and an almost serenity falls over the crowd. They had all heard ‘Two Ghosts’ long before it ever made it on to Harry Styles’ debut album. It was a song Harry had penned the first time Louis had broken Harry's heart. When Louis had grown weak under the force of a thousand prying eyes, beaten down like rocks to a seabed as management grew more and more stringent in the monitoring of their behaviour. Louis had told Harry it would be easier to cut ties, to not talk both on and off stage unless required. Louis could still remember the way Harry's mouth had gaped on one side before he turned on his heel and walked away wordlessly. They wouldn’t speak for another six weeks after that moment, until Louis would burst into his hotel room high with a brand new tattoo that Zayn had inked for him. Harry had shaken his head disapprovingly, guided him under the sheets and tucked him in. Harry had slept on the sofa. 

Louis awoke to an empty room and a throbbing headache. It had taken him a few minutes to realise the belongings around him weren’t his own and that the sound of water in the bathroom was that of his host in the shower. Louis took that moment to leave. They didn’t speak for another six weeks, a break in their schedules allowing them both to nurse their aching chests in peace. But Louis hadn’t stopped loving Harry, as much as he had tried to persuade himself that he had. So when he walked into rehearsals, feeling considerably lighter than he had in previous months, to a small smile from a fresh Harry, Louis had known they would be okay again. 

A week later, as they laid entangled in sheets, Harry played him the song. Louis cried. 

When Harry played it to all the boys, they agreed it wasn’t right for the band to release. Louis cried again. 

And after so many years since the words were written, Louis has never felt the meaning of the words as much as he does in that moment. He’s almost sure Harry is staring right at him as he sings, tears itching at Louis’ eyes. At the core, they are exactly the same boys they have always been, never quite able to say the words written across their hearts until it was too late.

Louis remembers what it feels like to have a heartbeat.

It feels like Harry.


	4. Chapter 4

Tomorrow, the internet will be flooded with videos and images of Louis Tomlinson at Harry Styles’ concert. Singing, dancing and with a wetness to his eye. In a way he wouldn’t have been all those years before. Louis is okay with it.

The first time Louis listened to ‘Meet Me in the Hallway’ he ripped his ear buds out half way through and didn’t return to it until three weeks later. Hearing it live in person is almost cathartic, like Louis is scratching off the scab of a wound and seeing fresh skin again. Like Louis is washing away years of caked on mud. 

Liam had assured him that Harry wasn’t coming. So when, several whiskys deep and slur already twisting his speech later, Harry Styles strolls into the building, Louis laughs. Louis laughs because Harry looks great with his perfectly coiffed hair and arrogant smile. Looks utterly at ease as he breezes into Liams birthday party several hours later than everyone else with people on his arm that Louis doesn’t even recognise. Louis laughs because he will strangle Liam, but he’ll wait until tomorrow because it is his birthday after all. Louis laughs because he all of a sudden feels so out of place, like needles are pricking at his skin, like the walls are closing in on him. Louis laughs because once upon a time Harry felt like home. 

Louis expertly avoids Harry all night, keeping a precise eye on the taller mans every move and gesture, to the looks he would give Louis across the room as he edged ever closer as Louis scurries further backwards. So Louis finds his sister not long after Harry's arrival and tells her they need to leave. Despite how much fun she is having, she knows the score and nods, asking for a comfort break before they go. 

So waiting for Lottie to have a piss and powder her nose (or whatever it is that girls do in the timewarp of a bathroom), is how Harry finally finds him. 

‘Meeting in the hallway,’

Harry says, his voice a slow drawl that has always captivated Louis like no other.

‘Just like we used to.’

And Louis knows exactly what he is referring to but still remains tight lipped, despondent. To the days when they lived in their secret world, Louis whispering in Harry's ear to meet him in the hotel hallway so they could sneak out somewhere. To the sound of a slow tap at his door to reveal a curly headed boy waiting to be let in before anyone realised he wasn’t in his own room. They’d fallen in love in those stolen moments. They’d fallen in love. 

Louis agrees to listen to him, Lottie slinking out of the ladies room and heading straight back in to the party as Louis follows Harry out into the cool air. They walk, Louis lighting a cigarette and dangling it between his lips as Harry does all of the talking. And Louis thinks its funny, as he remembers the moment, how people always thought it was Harry who was the silent type. Louis focuses on keeping pace with the man whose legs have always been far longer than his own. Whilst Louis knows he should be feeling something, he feels nothing except the plume of smoke that fills his chest and the cool bite of a late evening chill on his skin. 

They stop when the silence between them grows uncomfortable. Louis drops the cigarette to the floor and stamps on it, rubbing it into the earth to pass more time. He has nothing to give Harry, his lips whisky kissed as they open and close around a string of words he’s never managed to convey. It’s then that Harry gives him the ultimatum. It is then that Louis finally speaks his first and only words to Harry of that evening. 

‘I can’t do it.’

And this time it is Louis who walks away to the sound of Harry begging him to stay. It is Louis who winces as Harry tells him he will wait, that they’ll be able to work it out, that Louis needs to trust him. Harry follows him back to the hallway outside the bathroom, where Louis finally turns and stops. Placing one hand on Harry's chest to root him in place, he places a gentle kiss on Harry's cheek. Louis has never seen the expression on Harry before. His green eyes cracked, lips teeth bitten. Harry is hurting. Louis leaves Harry in the hallway anyway. 

It is that same cheek Louis is drawn to as Harry is suddenly within a few short steps from him. Louis hadn’t realised that Harry would travel to another stage mid way through the show. Louis isn’t sure how to feel, knowing the closest he has come to Harry in this long is at a time where he is surrounded by so many others. Louis has always pictured their reunion being special, private. 

With Harry now on the second stage, Louis leans on the barrier that had previously been behind them as Liam and Niall are taking photos with fans to their left. Louis knows that he perhaps should join them. He doesn’t want to. He is startled by a hand that falls flat upon his shoulder, his head snapping sideways as the tailing voices come. 

‘This is my favourite,’

The voice says, closing the distance between them to lean against the barrier at his side so that their shoulders are touching. ‘Sweet Creature’ is one of his favourites too, Harry’s voice angelic and pure. The words a reminder of just how young they had been when they had fallen into one another's arms against a backdrop of fast cars and hotel rooms; that remaining anchored to the ground was only possible with the other ready and waiting to pull them back down to Earth. 

‘Mine too,’

He returns, as her hand finds his and she squeezes. Harry turns then, as if sensing that two of his worlds are colliding, one of the what was and the other of the always would. Louis knows this must not be in the plan as Harry is using the instrumental break to turn his back to the crowd to do more than just drink water. It reads on Mitch’s expression when Harry doesn’t pick up the strum of his guitar and leaves Mitch to carry the instrumental. And Louis is sure that Harry is walking directly toward him, stopping only to pluck a sunflower from the stage that someone has thrown up there. For a moment, Louis doesn’t break the eye contact Harry gives him, his lips pressed together in the soft smile only Harry had ever been on the receiving end of. For a moment, Louis thinks Harry is going to hand him the flower and so his chin tilts open in surprise and partly in horror at just how many eyes are upon them. Because exposure is what has plagued Louis thoughts for as long as he has known Harry. And Harry knows this.

As Harry crouches down, awkwardly as his guitar is still strapped to his body, Louis realises this is the closest he has been to Harry's eyes and lips and cheeks for over a year and he stills, the pads of his fingers rubbing against one another as they try to recall the feeling of skin against skin. Harry reaches forward and hands the yellow plant to his mother, blowing her a kiss before he unfolds himself so he is stood fully. He hesitates, his eyes drifting to Louis before he flashes his teeth. Louis laughs unexpectedly. Harry always was the cheeky one.

Louis realises he hasn’t been breathing, taking a deep gulp of air once Harry resumes his strumming of the chords and his singing fills the air once more. Anne hooks her arm in his so the sunflower sits between them, resting her head in the crook of Louis’ neck the way Harry had always done. 

‘I think this is meant for you,’

She says, her gaze never moving from her son. 

Louis looks at the sunflower, the vividness of it’s colour and wonders if she is right.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry leaves. 

Louis is used to Harry leaving.

When Harry leaves him to return to the mainstage, Anne squeezes his arm and tells him that she will find him again afterwards. Louis says that he would like that. 

Louis almost doesn’t recognise this adult version of their debut track, the smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he realises he kind of prefers it this way - much more Harry he thinks as the crowd still sing it the way it has always been sung. Louis remembers being pissed off when his agent had asked him if he would have a problem with Harry performing it. Louis had been pissed because it was Harry who had instigated the hiatus, Harry who had signed his solo deal within weeks of the band calling it a day, Harry who had distanced himself. Yet it was Harry who wanted to celebrate the band he’d turned his back on? Louis didn’t think he would ever understand it. 

But standing shoulder to shoulder with a thousand other fans, Louis realises that he does get it. One Direction will always be a part of Harry, the way it is with all of them. Harry had never stopped loving the band, in fact, he’d talked so openly about how good a break for the band would be, how they could grow and explore themselves before coming back together in a few years time. For a long while Louis hadn’t believed a word of it, felt Harry was saying it to placate them all. But with his lungs screaming with the words they had tentatively sang together as young boys, Louis finally found the truth he’d been looking for.

They head back stage before the encore, a security guard leading them to safety through the thick crowds of screaming fans, craving just another couple of songs from Harry. Safer to slope out early than to be mobbed at the end. Louis smiles into the cameras, sticking his thumb up and nodding whenever someone asks him if he’s enjoying himself. Despite the level of trepidation that had rooted him to the inside of his car for so long pre show, Louis could honestly say he’d had an amazing time. 

Louis doesn’t really think about the fact that Harry isn’t on the stage, because he knows he will be heading back to it at any moment. So when they stumble up the stairs and through the double set of doors into the side stage, Louis isn’t expecting one Harry Styles to run toward them. 

He’s sweating, Louis notices first. Glistening really, like a thousand glitter particles caught beneath sunlight. His hair is curling around his ears and Louis smiles as his gaze falls to the attempts at hair upon his upper lip. Harry has never been able to grow a tasche. 

‘Boys,’

He breathes, out of breath, a towel pushed into his hand by somebody Louis doesn’t bother to look at. Louis really wishes it were just him and Harry. Louis really wishes that Harry didn’t have to look so damn glowy. 

‘You enjoying yourselves?’

He won’t look at Louis, eyes glued to Niall and Liam who are smiling and patting him on the shoulder and showering him in a sea of compliments. Louis just stares at them both, fond expression as though he is peering through a window, observing. But then Harry turns to him because Louis can’t stay tight lipped forever and the curtain between them is drawn back to lay daylight in.

‘You’re great up there,’

Louis means it. Means it with every fibre of his being. The way he would when he nuzzled into the head of curls in the single beds they had in the X Factor house when Harry would be too hard on himself to the point he’d be sobbing into his bed sheets. Louis has always been the biggest supporter of Harry, even when Harry couldn’t do that for himself, let alone anyone around him. Some things never changed. Like Harry reaching out to squeeze Louis’ hand, thumb fanning across the skin on the back of his palm. The gesture not unnoticed by two companions.

‘I’m really glad you came Louis, really glad.’

And Louis knows he means it. Harrys eyes crystal clear, searching every inch of Louis’ own for the validation he’s always sucked from Louis. Louis would quite like the moment to stretch on, for the romanticised version of their reunion he has thought about so many times to pan out. But Jeff appears to hurry Harry along, the fans won’t wait forever, whereas Louis would. But Harry bats him away and asks them one more thing.

‘Will you come on with me? All of you? We’ll do ‘Little Things’ or something? Can sort you a guitar Ni? Like old times?’

And Louis knows better than to get sucked up into the whirlwind of Harry Styles all over again. Hurricane Harry who has forever blown into his life, spun him in circles only to leave him behind, recked and alone. But he finds himself grinning ear to ear, eyes creasing as happiness lights up the cerulean in his orbs as both Niall and Liam laugh and nod and proclaim they’d like nothing more. 

So as Harry sprints out to stage, apologising for the delay before diving straight into Kiwi, Louis finds himself feebly attempting to warm up an out of practice voice, staring into the faces of Niall and Liam who can’t quite believe their luck either. 

‘This is going to be crazy,’

Niall affirms, as the guitar tech assists him with the tuning, ear piece slotted to his head by someone else. Liam looks as breezy as always, doing some squats as though they were preparing for more physical exertion than Louis would ever expect to give when performing a classic One Direction song. 

‘It’s the final night of the tour Los Angeles, so I would like to bring out three people who are some of the most special people in my life. I know it has been a little while, but we’d really love to sing you a little something tonight if you’d let us.’

Louis swallows down the lump in his throat as he grips the mic in his left hand, coughing away the ball of emotion threatening to spill at any moment as Harry introduces them.

‘Please make some noise, for my friends, Liam, Niall and Louis.’

And as Louis walks out, momentarily blinded by the view as his eyes grow accustomed to something that used to be so regular, he feels the heavyweight of Harry's arm around his shoulders. 

They’ve come full circle, he recognises. 

Harry and Louis had met under spotlights, had fallen in love under spotlights, had fallen apart under them too. Louis hadn’t realised it would take the spotlight to bring them back together again.

They are together again.


	6. Chapter 6

Maybe it’s because it shouldn’t be his favourite song that Louis says it is. 

Even as Niall’s eyes near on pop out of their sockets as he chokes on the budweiser in his grip, Louis continues with the answer with a bold smile as he replies to Adam’s original question. 

But Kiwi is his favourite song. Was his favourite song from the moment Louis had managed to listen to the full album without switching it off half way through when his chin was quivering too much to continue. Was his favourite song long before Harry released that damn perfect video to accompany it with puppies, kids, cake and gucci suits which were all so Harry that Louis had just laughed when he’d seen the pure nonsensicalness of it. It was his favourite song even before he’d watched Harry perform it on some late night talk show with an air of arrogance and flamboyance that Louis had always found so attractive. 

Kiwi was Louis’ favourite song despite the fact it chronicles his biggest betrayal to one Harry Styles. 

So it’s no wonder really then, that Niall stutters when asked the same question, his eyes searching Louis’ with something like disappointment, as though he can’t quite believe Louis would have the audacity to say such a thing before he eventually decides to say that Carolina is his. 

Louis thinks that’s ironic, because Carolina is his least favourite. 

When Adam walks away from them, Niall grips Louis firmly, pulling him close.

‘Was that for some weird shits and giggles Tommo? You hoping that gets back to H?’

Louis shrugs himself out of the grip, sinking more of his beer as he pats his friend on the shoulder. Niall doesn’t get it, which he isn’t frustrated by. Nobody would get it because this was a story between Louis and Harry. Two people who had never done things in an orthodox manner. Niall wouldn’t understand why Kiwi was Louis’ favourite song and that was just fine. 

‘And you said Carolina? What kind of fuckery was that Horan?’

But Louis doesn’t get to hear what the little irish man has to say for himself as Liam reappears, with Harry at his side. Harry who Louis hadn’t even realised had arrived. But here he stands, small smile twisting his lips as he looks between Louis and Niall.

‘And what, can I ask, is so bad about Carolina?’

Louis wonders how long he has been within earshot of their conversation as he takes him in up close. He’s showered, Louis notes because the citrus of Harry’s shower gel apparently hasn’t changed in the years they’ve been apart. His hair is a little fluffy, like when Harry would only half dry it with a towel because they’d be running late to wherever it was they were supposed to be. And he’s the most dressed down Louis’ seen him in years - used to the photos of Louis in extravagant suit after extravagant suit. Louis hasn’t seen the real Harry for so long, in his baggy light wash jeans and shania twain shirt that for a few moments, Louis is lost for words. 

‘Oh, uh no-nothing really it’s just’

And it’s Adam who cuts in and Louis makes a mental note to figure out exactly where he lost his spacial awareness because far too many people were creeping up on him for his own liking. And Louis can almost see the flames begin to rise before Adam even opens his mouth to speak, Niall reaching his arm forward as though he was going to just propel Adam halfway across the room.

‘Must say I agree with Louis, kiwi’s my favourite song too. You can’t beat it, especially to perform right H?’

Liam looks at him like he can’t believe what he is hearing, his brow a straight line as Louis turns his attention to Harry. 

Harry smiles and nods.

They were in the call room, or the chill out zone as the boys had always so affectionately referred to it as. They were in America, but where exactly Louis chooses not to remember whereas Harry would know if he were telling the story. 

Liam’s stood up in front of them, holding up two shirts that look near on identical if you asked Louis, trying to figure out which to wear for the show. 

Louis has his arms draped around Harry, relaxed into the couch beneath them as a film flickered in the background. Things were finally a little better between them after weeks and months of bickering and silence as they recovered from the fall out of the hiatus. Louis felt the lightest he’d felt for a long time.

Niall was throwing a bouncy ball between his feet as he and Harry tried to give Liam some constructive advice without bursting into laughter about the fact they were talking about two shirts that were almost identical. 

But then Brianna bursts through the door, Louis’ assistant running breathlessly behind and Louis knows it’s all over. Louis knows this isn’t good before Brianna even opens her mouth as Harry recedes away from him towards Niall because Niall has always been so perfectly reliable for Harry when Louis was anything but. Louis knows it isn’t good because Liam stops talking about his bloody fashion choices when all Louis wants is for Liam to carry on talking to drown out the sound of Brianna’s harsh American tone. 

Louis wants the confused expression on Harry’s expression to last, but it doesn’t, recognition flickering his glittering eyes a dark forest green. Because of all his wrongs in life, Louis was anything but a liar and he’d come clean to Harry about what he’d been up to in their time apart. In the times when Harry had wanted nothing to do with Louis. So despite the fact it had chipped another dent into an already fragile Harry, Louis had sat him down and confessed his sins. That on the back of a week long argument where H had refused to speak to him, Louis had got drunk and high and fucked a woman. 

He’d fucked Brianna knowing it would hurt Harry. 

But as Harry always managed to do, with his big sympathetic heart, he forgave Louis. Forgave Louis because he loved him to the point he was blind to the flaws and bad choices that he made. Forgave Louis because he was weak without admitting to be. 

But this was unforgivable, even Louis knew. 

So when Brianna bursts into the room, her face tear stained with Louis’ assistant standing helplessly in the doorway behind, Louis knows this is bad. Knows from the way Harry doesn’t move, from the way Liam tenses and looks between them, to the way Niall edges closer to Harry out of the corner of his eye. Louis knows because his hair stands on end as he rises to his feet. 

‘Alright love?’

And again Harry doesn’t move despite the fact Louis wishes he would. Wishes that emotionless Harry would just let his guard down for a moment to shudder, to scream or to just swear his passive fucking mouth off. But he does nothing and it infuriates Louis. 

And then she fires the bullets, the words spilling from her mouth.

Louis never thought he would enter the realms of fatherhood in this way, but he does. 

And for the first time in so long, Louis is speechless, his face hollow as his jaw swings open. And it is Harry who speaks, Harry who never has a damn word to say about anything. 

‘You’re what?’

And Brianna glowers at him, as though Harry was the spawn of Satan, her eyes dark and thunderous as she snaps her neck to look him up and down. 

‘I’m having your baby,’ she screams,her finger jabbing toward Louis like a knife through butter ‘and it’s none of your fucking business Harry.’

Harry gets up and leaves and Niall and Liam go with him. 

So yes, perhaps choosing Kiwi as his favourite song is a little masochistic. 

But then Harry laughs and Niall looks like he might pass out on the spot.

‘You know what Lou, it’s my favourite too.’

And Louis isn’t even surprised.


	7. Chapter 7

Louis finds respite in the night air.

There’s a chill to the Los Angeles wind that reminds Louis of home. Of wearing his beaten vans and puma joggers rather than crisp jeans and a slightly too tight shirt. He’s uncomfortable. Has always been uncomfortable with this world. 

Clicking the door closed behind him, Louis inhales deeply, pulling his cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket before he sits on the wooden slatted floor, threading his legs between the gaps in the railing so that his feet dangle into the nothingness. 

He pulls a cigarette from the packet and hangs it from his lip, cupping his hands together as a flame momentarily lights his face. With a deep puff of his vice, Louis admires the view, the thud of the music in the house a comforting backdrop. He’s always preferred the escape. 

Louis lets his mind wander to whether this is Harry's house and whether he will always feel the need to steal a smoke somewhere that Harry won’t see. Harry who never understood why Louis could possibly want to rely on something that could ruin his lips and mouth and lungs and everything that enabled him to sing. And Louis who could never understand why Harry didn’t get it. But he soon shakes the thought away, tossing the pack of lights to the side; the house is much too clinical for the Harry he used to know - not enough reminders of home for the boy who has always, remarkably, managed to keep his feet anchored to the ground. 

Flicking the cigarette into the oblivion, Louis pulls out the invite that had led him here, toying the silk card between his fingers as he wonders if this is all a mistake. He hears the door open and twists his head over his shoulder to see who it is, hoping it’s just a stranger looking for a peaceful spot to light up. 

It’s not though. Of course it’s not.

‘Bought you a beer.’

‘Cheers lad.’

Louis accepts the offering, turning back to the dusky sky as his accompaniment joins him on the floor, mirroring Louis as he too squeezes his legs between the breaks in the barriers. 

‘How’d you know I was out here?’

Louis looks at him then, no smile on his face as he presses his lips together tightly, fingers curling around the cigarette packet at his side.

‘Some things don’t change Lou.’

And Louis nods, eyes creasing into a knowing smile. He’d always done this really now he thinks about it. Always chosen to take himself off when he could have stayed in the thick of it with the other boys. And Harry has always sought him out. Harry with his knowing look and beacon tracking ability to always find him. Maybe Louis has done this on purpose. Maybe Harry knows it too.

‘Did you think you’d need that to get in?’

Harry asks, laughing softly as he points the neck of his beer bottle to the invitation in Louis grip that he would have sat and written out weeks ago. Louis laughs too, his gaze still fixed on the curl of the L that begins his name. Maybe he’d kept it as a reminder that this was real. 

‘Why’d you invite me here H?’

And he promised he wouldn’t but Louis voice cracks and he dips his chin, rubbing his outstretched palm across his jeans to give him something to focus on.

Silence with Harry has always been deafening. A Harry who never raised his voice, who never shouted, who would never tell Louis to go fuck himself the way Louis would tell him. Silence was Harry’s choice of weapon. Sharp and pointed as it sliced through Louis raging chest. And it was silence that suffocated him despite the crisp night air that cooled his lungs.

Louis goes to speak, the way he always would when the silence was too oppressive for him to live with. But Harry knows him, flexing his palm into the air between them with a shake of his head. Louis rolls his lips together, watching Harry. Waiting. 

‘Thought it was about time.’

Louis doesn’t know what this means and creases his brown in frustration that a man could wait so long to speak, speak so slowly and yet still give nothing away. There was something about the sound of Harry’s voice that has always rolled like thunder through him. The depth, the slow drawl, the northern twang; all so distinctive and enough to have Louis straining to hear every last thing he has to say. But Louis knows that Harry has always been able to sense Louis’ emotions as though they were connected by a piece of string as his large, ring clad, hand falls onto his arm. It settles him for the moment. 

‘It’s been long enough I think. Didn’t feel right to do this tour, on my own and you not be here. Sorry, maybe, saying it out loud, I guess it’s a bit selfish isn’t it.’

He laughs nervously, his hand withdrawing away from Louis. Louis traces the skin where Harry’s palm has been, the skin prickling under a touch it had missed for so long. But Louis understands, he thinks. Harry’s different. Louis can see it in the twilight hues that lift his features, his trademark dimple when he smiles, the thicker of lashes fanning across his cheek as he glances down at his hands as he fiddles with his rings. So different than the sixteen year old boy Louis had scooped up and under his arm. But Louis is different too and Lou knows this, even if he doesn’t always want to face into it. He’s more cynical, a little less light than he was, his fingers itching for the role of a cigarette between them so it can give him another focus beyond that of the rosy peach to Harry’s lips.

Harry does it for him, pulls a cigarette from the pack sat between them and holds it out for Louis to take. He does of course, draping it between his lips and lighting it, the plume of smoke filling his chest a relaxant.

‘It’s not selfish,’

Louis confirms, tucking the pack of smokes in his back pocket so that it doesn’t sit between he and Harry anymore, their shoulders brushing. 

‘Glad I could come.’

And he says it as though it was lucky, a natural break in his schedule. Coincidental enough for him to turn up on the fly. He flicks the half finished cigarette away, picking up the beer Harry had retrieved for him instead.

‘You better hope that doesn’t set the whole of LA on fire,’

Louis almost chokes on his beer as he recognises that tone of voice. And Harry is actually teasing him. Lou looks to him properly this time, twists his neck so there faces meet, Harry wearing a dancing grin that Louis has missed for so long. 

‘Wanna get out of here? Go for a walk?’

‘We can’t, this party is for you H. Can’t just up and leave.’

‘But it’s not really, is it? Parties like this,’ he says, waving his hand in the air, ‘they’re always for everyone else.’

Louis pauses.  
He’d never been able to say no to Harry.


End file.
